Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 89 - 91

Chapter 89: Chapter 91

Avara POV

It dawns on him like a slap to the face as he reaches into his back pocket to slide out the device. That I had planted when I pulled myself closer to him the second time. He was so focused on what my hand was doing in the front; it left him oblivious to the hand that snaked behind him.

"Honestly, detective," I begin, deepening the enunciation of the word with a long and low drawl. "I expected better. I didn’t think you were so easily distracted."

"You’re distracting," he blurts, then makes a curt correction. "I underestimated you."

I smile back at him sweetly. "And you won’t be the last to do so."

***

When I return home with some souvenirs from Simon.

I thought I was coming home to an empty house. Instead, I’m welcomed by the rumble of a brewing argument. My brothers. And since I haven’t heard our father yelling to them to shut up from upstairs—I’m guessing he’s not home. I close the door, rolling the human-size suitcase behind me, hoping the sound of me trundling its heft through the entryway would alert them of my arrival. But the topic of their conflict seems to be more demanding. Nothing interesting, just about a new directive and something about a different approach to proposal—all linked to him, so it interests me little.

"So you’ll have dad look like a pussy for not taking a strong stance on—what you call it—positive reform or whatever bullshit those liberal losers are calling it."

"Liberal losers?" Luciano repeats in rage, his pitch spiking with a hot flash. "That’s a wonderful tagline for dad’s next campaign. What’s next—your body, our choice?"

"That’s not what I meant," Silas says with a tortured groan. "There’s nothing wrong with having an opinion."

"There is if the opinion is an infringement of human rights or worse—a controversial, cancel-worthy unpopular opinion. It’s like he always said—"

"Politics is performance," they say unison before erupting into a laugh.

Laughter that sweeps up into a wild roar when they see me. Silas spurts to his feet first and launches himself at me with an excited whoop, lifting me off my feet as I tangle my arms around his neck to keep stable. When he lets me back down, I catch sight of Luciano over the ridge of Silas’s shoulder, making a phone call. I frown at that, but then Silas pulls away and my lips snap into a smile.

"Missed you," I whisper, like it’s a secret.

"And what about me?" Luciano questions as he pockets his phone and makes his way to us.

Silas steps out of his way, and I cross my arms to deny him a warm welcome.

My eyes dart to his pocket pointedly. "You some kind of snitch now?"

"Come on," he dismisses and outstretches a lazy arm to pull me into a hug.

I smack his arm away with more aggression than intended, and his eyes spark.

"What’s this?" Luciano switches into a boxer pose with his fists playfully raised. "Trying to square up, little sis?"

I lift my fists with equal challenge.

Silas holds up an invisible microphone like a UFC boxing host as he dips into a slight crouch. "Round one," he announces in an animated voice. "Fight!"

Luciano charges at me, and I dart out of the way. With his back turned, I flip around first and Silas drops halfway with his arms fully extended, his one hand overlapping the other palm readily and like a launching pad—he propels me onto his back and Luciano staggers at the sudden weight as my legs lock around‌ his waist and I secure my hold around him in a headlock.

"Really, you two still pulling that old move?"

"It worked, didn’t it?" I tighten my hold without choking him, but enough to send a firm warning that I will. "Accept your defeat with honour, brother."

"Never."

He pivots sharply and reverses to slam my back into the wall—a blown gasp as the impact rushes through me as I drop to the ground like a fly on the wall swatted by a shoe.

"Shit—Avie, I’m so sorry."

I double over even deeper as I force out a fit of coughs. Luciano takes the bait immediately and hurries over to inspect the damage as he gently tries to straighten me out so he can look at me. That’s what I bolt upright to deliver a mild punch to his stomach that earns the triumphant sound of a hard oomph as he stumbles back. And you would think that was it over by then, but that vengeful grin on his face tells me I’ve sealed my own fate and now the gloves are coming off.

I bound away to dart behind Silas for protection. And like something out of a horror movie. Silas turns around with this spooky slowness. I whip around but Silas grabs me from behind and Luciano heaves me horizontal as he coils his arms around my legs so they can drag carry me into the lounge before dumping me on the couch.

My laugh cuts out when Silas pins my hands beside my head as he hovers over me from the other side and Luciana keeps my legs anchored to the couch. This is painfully off-script, veering off what feels safe, playful and normal and edging towards something frightening as a flick of fear flits through me. I tilt my head so I’m almost arching against the couch so I can glimpse an upside down view of Silas’s face before I flatten myself so I can lift my head to cast a concerned look at Luciano, who persists in his unyielding position.

"Okay, what the hell is this?"

"Did you use the same channels with your last outreach as this one?"

"Of course."

I try to move, but my wrists remain cemented to the couch.

"Funny," Luciano comments coldly.

"I had a contact call their offices," Silas continues. "They had no available posts in the last two months. All were occupied by a global mix of volunteers. Fifteen Americans. Seven women—four of them were black. So I’ll let you do the math of how many weren’t you."

I breathe carefully as an involuntary tremor passes through me, steeling my nerves to still my body. Buried images strobe my brain in a tormenting procession, sight and sounds assail my senses as I begin anew as I squirm futilely and all I can think and feel are the phantom sensations of Grayson’s flesh forced over my own and that dread starts to dig into my gut and I want nothing more to get out of this position.

"Monitoring me?" I snap, anger and anguish colliding into each other as my face twitches from side to side as my squirms ramp up intensity. "Is that who you were calling Luciano—dad?"

"He told me to let him know the moment you were home," Luaciano answers, then a harsh arch in his tone when he says, "Don’t worry, I didn’t snitch on the fact that you fed us lies about where you were really going."

"You want a thank you?" I shout back with a fierceness that surprises me. "You don’t deserve one because it’s none of your business. Now let me go!" My words dissolve into a mindless scream that makes my brothers jump to their feet with their hands raised like they were caught committing a crime.

I scramble back upright and I scurry out of the lounge with tears burning behind my eyes, not because of what they did but because it dredged up memories, I believed dead.

By the time I reach my suitcase, my vision is blurred with tears, every object distorted into fractured, watery shapes. My hand reaches out, but it’s trembling so much I can barely grasp the handle. I try to steady myself, squeezing my fingers into a fist to wring out the shakes, but it’s as useless as I feel. A raw, scorching frustration wells up, bubbling up fast and uncontrollable. My chest heaves as I kick the suitcase over with all the force I can muster, a scream ripping free—unrecognizable, even to myself.

I don’t know where this rage is coming from or why it’s clawing its way to the surface, but it doesn’t stop. My feet strike again and again, the suitcase tumbling like a hollow shell. Before I know it, Silas rushes over, gripping me tightly from behind. He pulls me into him, swiveling us away from the chaos I’ve created. My body thrashes for a moment, tears streaming in blinding rivulets, before he lowers us both to the ground with careful strength as if to shield me from myself.

Luciano appears, saying nothing. He sinks onto the floor beside us, a silent anchor. Silas’s arms remain wrapped around me, holding me steady as my sobs crash out in shudders until my strength finally crumbles. I sag against him, my fury depleted as I drop my head against his chest with my throat exposed.

I don’t know how long we stew in that silence, no matter how suffocating. It’s a space where I reside so that is where my brothers are—bound by a pain that none of us know or even I can identify. After a long while, they don’t ask the obvious question or try to probe any further. They release me to my bedroom where the first thing I do is lay down and the instant I do—sleep seizes me.

A hand clasps my arm and I jerk awake at the featherlight touch.

My father flips up a hand, then places it on his heart. "I’m glad you’re home safe," he says with an almost believable, loving smile. His shoulders twist so he can throw a quick glance at my suitcase. "I see you haven’t unpacked—"

"Yeah, I just got in not that long ago, I think. What’s the time?"

"No, I mean, it’s good that you didn’t pack. Because we need to leave."

I sit up straighter on the bed as I push myself up. "What, where—I just got back?"

"I know, but Colton and his sons are already at the Vacheron estate."

"Vacheron estate? You mean Colton’s house?"

"I mean Colton’s father’s manor—in Italy. The jet is waiting for us. Colton already sent for Kels, so she’ll meet us there."

That bit of information single-handedly prevents another breakdown.